


It Keeps Us Weak

by Caloppe



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Kinda, M/M, Michael Myers Speaks, but BOY he's struggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caloppe/pseuds/Caloppe
Summary: Jake wakes up alone in a familiar realm, but something about it feels... different. He decides to investigate and ends up making a new friend in the process. Or does he?
Relationships: Michael Myers & Jake Park, Michael Myers/Jake Park
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	It Keeps Us Weak

**Author's Note:**

> **Before you read** , I would like to point out a few things: I am not much of a writer and this is the first time I am sharing one of my works with the rest of world. I am extremely nervous about doing so, but I am also eager to see what people will think of it. I really want to improve and I am open to constructive criticism that will help me in that regard.
> 
> I am also not a native english speaker. I kept my english rather simple to avoid grammatical errors, but I wouldn't be surprised if I still made plenty of them :(
> 
> Finally, there is nothing worth putting a Warning over in this story, **however** I do mention trials, notably Jake's first experience on a hook. It gets a liiiittle graphic, so please be careful when you reach this part! I also mention food several times.
> 
> Hope you like the story and thank you for giving it a chance ;u;b ♥

  
  
  
  
Waking up in a trial was one thing. Waking up _alone_ in one was another.  
  
  
Because his ears were ringing and his head was spinning, it took a minute for Jake to realize he was currently standing in the middle of a street. He hurried to lean against the side of a nearby car to fight against the nausea that was threatening to reject what little contents was stored in his stomach, but that was pointless. As he coughed and spat on the asphalt ground, the Survivor felt his balance come back at an agonizing, sluggish pace, but silently rejoiced as it was coming back nonetheless. While he knew a trial had just begun, he had never felt this bad at the beginning of one until now. Especially to the point that he couldn’t immediately recognize his surroundings. While he was no stranger to feeling sick at the start of one of The Entity's deadly games, this time felt… different, more intense in an odd way. He certainly never threw up, that's for sure.  
  
Everytime he and the others would wake up in what felt like open prisons, the first few seconds of the game would make them feel terribly ill. None of the Survivors knew how they would even arrive here. One second they would be resting at the campfire, sharing stories or tricks on how to evade the Killers, only to find themselves on the grounds of a trial in the next. Naturally, everyone had their own theories, but while some Survivors would think The Entity was simply teleporting them when It judged the time was right, the others would rather not waste time or energy questioning Its bizarre logic and powers.  
  
Jake was one of the Survivors who thought the latter. In fact, while waking up alone in that trial had confused him more than just a little at first, he didn't put that much thought into it afterwards. He just knew The Entity was simply toying with him, with _them_ , as he was certain the others were most definitely in other realms, all of them about to face the same challenge Jake was forced into. Indeed, Jake knew he was alone from the moment he woke up here, as he didn't feel any of his friends' presence like he would always do. Perhaps that, through some sick experiment, The Entity wanted to test each of the Survivors' abilities when they must face one of the Killers by themselves. Or maybe the creature he and his friends had yet to meet had grown tired of him and decided to throw him into one of the Killers' jaws to dispose of him. If Jake had to be honest with himself, the latter almost sounded merciful and would gladly run into the Killer's arms himself if it meant this endless torment would be put to an end.  
  
Jake wasn't too worried at whatever The Entity had in store for him as in fact, remaining calm in the face of true terror was his biggest strength, a talent that had always been useless during his life until he was taken to realm. That, or he had just grown numb over the years. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel fear, but the survivalist was calm by nature, pain was just an obstacle- and he would not let any obstacle get in the way of his goals. What concerned him however was the lack of generators as he slowly walked around the area. Or sacrificial hooks, for that matter. Jake wasn't sure what to make of this. In a way, the lack of hooks was comforting, but the lack of generators meant no way of opening the exit gates. Maybe he could find a key in a chest somewhere, and get the hatch instead? Or maybe this was the point of The Entity's test and he was supposed to find another way out?  
  
Jake was still feeling a little groggy. His eyes had been having troubles adjusting to his surroundings ever since he'd woken up here, and despite his efforts at trying to focus on the situation, his mind insisted on remaining elsewhere. It took him awhile but eventually, he finally realized he was actually walking the street of Lampkin Lane, Haddonfield. This was the realm of The Entity's new ferocious beast. But how had he not noticed before? He suddenly felt as if a fog had been lifted off his mind and his surroundings were finally starting to make sense. Hadn't he just scouted for generators just a minute ago?  
  
This didn't feel right. Nothing here felt right, nor did it make any sense. Jake suddenly felt even more light-headed as he realized that he was, in fact, probably not supposed to be here. He held in head in his hands, pressing his forehead against his palms- and groaned. What sort of mess had that stupid, glorified plant forced him into again? The lone Survivor followed his instincts and crouched down near a trash can, had a quick look around and stealthily made his way to a bush, hoping that it would help him blend in. Once he felt less exposed, Jake thought to himself, waiting as he felt his body finally adjusting to his new surroundings- his mind feeling as if all his thoughts were finally getting coherent again at last.  
  
  
_So… I woke up here alone with not a single fucking generator in sight. But it seems no hooks have spawned either. I'm ready to bet I won’t find a chest or a hatch either. What is it that The Entity wants with me?_ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_ As he questioned his current situation, Jake scanned his surroundings. Now that he was thinking about it, this… Haddonfield felt a lot more welcoming than the one he had been accustomed to. The one he knew was a dull mess, although maybe less so than the other maps. But right here and right now, Lampkin Lane felt a little more vibrant. A lot more, in fact. The air that filled his lungs felt fresher, healthier. He was by himself, but thanks to the rare few singing birds that remained awake at this time of the night, he was spared from feeling alone. Hell, now that he thought of it, there were no birds in this realm other than those fake looking crows. The colors were also a little more vibrant under the streetlights, and most importantly, the night sky above his head truly felt like a real night sky, unlike everywhere else in The Entity's plane where it felt as if the realms were stuck in a bizarre state of in-between night and day, yet with no sunset or sunrise in sight. The Haddonfield he knew from trials did have stars, however, and it was a pleasant sight. This realm was no exception, in fact the stars were even brighter. Had he not been so confused by the ordeal he had forcefully been thrown into, he would have loved to stop and go sit at a balcony for stargazing. Oh, that sounded delightful... reminded him of his previous life when he would climb on top of his old cabin and watch the night sky during the summer. Maybe enjoy a snack as he did. Damn it, he missed food too. There were only a few things Jake had cared about in life- his solitude, his life in the woods, and food. It wasn’t much, and yet, that stupid Lovecraftian plant had managed to take these things away from him.  
  
It suddenly hit him. However Haddonfield had looked like in the real world, this place felt like the real deal. Every other realm felt incredibly fake, yet so real. But right here, right now, Jake felt as if he had finally left The Entity’s dreadful plane of existence and was back into his own. But why Haddonfield? This was Laurie and the Shape’s world. A forest would have made a lot more sense.   
  
Jake was at loss. In a way, having been thrown back into the real world could maybe explain why he had felt so sick waking up. But while he would certainly take a different time period and dimension over the dreadful world he had spent what felt like the past couple years in, something wasn't right. He knew better than to let his hopes up. What sort of twisted game was The Entity playing this time?  
  
Realizing that he might have been trespassing on somebody’s lawn, Jake immediately bolted out of his hiding place and miserably stood on the sidewalk, brushing off the dirt and itchy leaves that had stuck to his old but comfortable pair of cargo pants. “Hello?” He desperately called out, hoping to see one of the nearby houses’ windows come to life with a light. Everything was awfully silent, even for a quiet middle-class neighborhood in the middle of the night. He knew he would at least be hearing a distant car somewhere. But nobody answered to Jake except for the few birds perched on top of tree branches that had methodically been planted in the street to embellish it.  
  
This wasn't good. He wanted to believe this was the real world, but he just knew he had not left The Entity’s world. To make things worse, Jake realized there were no walls around the map either, just a strange, black fog surrounding the streets. He thought it was just the dead of the night swallowing the street whole, but now that he closed in to the edges of the area, he recognized the familiar black mist. This meant no exit gates would help him get out of there either. And while the mist was awfully similar to what he'd see pouring out of open hatches or exit gates, he wasn't just about to trust whatever The Entity had spawned there with his life either.  
  
Jake felt desperate as dread was slowly but surely taking over him. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally. He wasn't certain about it but, he had this strange impression that he hadn't gone back to camp since his last trial either. Had The Entity thrown him here directly after his last match? Why did It have to make things so difficult? All those unanswered questions that had been going through his mind in such a short period of time were infuriating him.  
  
  
"Can't you give me a fucking break, just for once in my life?" Jake muttered to himself as he kicked the grass with his foot in a fit of anger.  
  
  
_Life_ , huh? Was he even alive anymore? He couldn't really tell. The last thing he remembered from his previous life was walking a little too far away from his cabin one day, to eventually find himself near a strange fire which a nervous man with glasses had been using to warm up his trembling hands. Jake had more or less ignored the stranger's questions, as the survivalist had never… been much of a people person, and had moved to the woods for that exact reason- hoping to never have to deal with modern society or people ever again. Especially the latter. Humanity would disappoint and disgust him more and more everyday, and his trust for people had been long gone. But to his horror, he was never able to find his way back home. He'd tried so many times to find a way out, but when he would leave the campfire from one side, he would find himself in the presence of both the campfire and the nervous stranger again, this time coming from the opposite side. No matter how many times he’d try to leave, this would happen. He’d eventually decided to sit by the stranger and as he reluctantly chatted with him, he realized to his horror that the trees surrounding them looked dead and their bark had this unnatural black color to them.  
  
It took no time for the survivalist to become a Survivor. He remembered his first trial, his confusion as he woke up feeling almost just as terrible as right now before he’d carelessly wander the grounds of what he later learned to be one of the variants of the MacMillan Estate. He would spot several generators, wooden pallets and strange meat hooks that were scattered around the area. His stomach flipped at the sight of some strange satanic-looking sculptures hidden behind a crate. Jake just knew those skulls and bones were not some stupid Halloween props and that was when he truly felt uneasiness take over him. It all got worse when he’d spot the next, nearest meat hook, to which he paid little to no mind at first- but was then finally starting to worry about their purpose.  
  
  
And soon enough, he'd found his foot stuck in the maw of a bear trap.  
  
  
While Jake was no stranger to traps, having himself built and used a few in the past to hunt small animals, his surroundings had distracted him so much that he didn't consider finding anything like this in those woods, something he would beat himself up over for a long time. He knew woods and forests were dangerous places- _especially_ when they went silent. He should have expected something like this… he should have been more careful.  
  
The pain he felt at that moment was… not something he could ever properly describe with words. He will never forget the hellish sight of his own flesh tearing around the iron claws as he desperately tried to wiggle his way out. If anything, trying to get out of there had only made things worse. It had been so bad that the excruciating pain had made him, for a second, consider ripping his leg away from the trap to leave it behind. He also remembered the panic taking over him as the sharp teeth of the torture device would tear through his gloves and to his fingers. The agony, the horror, his heartbeat increasing at an unnatural and frightening pace, nothing else had existed at that moment. It had been all so overwhelming that Jake couldn't prevent the scream from escaping his throat the second the bear trap had closed itself on his shin.  
  
And then… He saw him. Or it? He couldn’t tell at the time. A creature- humanoid in appearance, taller than your average man, its skin a mix of reds, browns and greys. From out of its arm came large chunks of metal with old and unwashed blood that had dried out at their base. It wore strange and washed out green overalls made of a rubbery fabric, but most horrifyingly, it also wore a mask that covered its face. A pale mask, with sharp teeth ornating the bottom half and exposing the creature’s mouth. And, while its lips showed an emotionless flat line, the teeth around it were scattered in a way that it made it seem as if a grin full of malice was plastered over its face. The sight of this monster had rendered the survivalist silent, frozen in place. The crows that infested the area had flown away and gone silent once more the moment the creature revealed itself to him. Jake had, in fact, almost forgotten about the raging pain in his injured leg. The creature would stand there for a few seconds, staring down at him… silent. As if it had been admiring its work.  
  
Oh yes , Jake had known that it was responsible for the trap. In fact, the monster had been carrying another one in its arms at the time. In the next second, Jake found himself being carried around on the creature’s shoulders. He didn't really try to fight his grip either. Uncertain of what was going on, and still too shaken up from the overwhelming pain in his legs, he weakly let himself be carried away.  
  
  
Until his back would meet the cold, rusty edges of a meat hook.  
  
  
Jake remembered this horrific experience like it happened the day before. His body froze in place, as if it had grown a conscience of its own and tried to process the most painful trauma it had ever experienced until today. As the blade pierced through his body and came out from between his shoulder and pectoral, Jake trembled like a miserable leaf as his eyes laid upon the dirty, rusty metal coming out of his body, staring in sheer horror. He felt gravity pull his body towards the ground along with his own weight threatening to crush him and tear off his shoulder. His vision slowly went black as he hopelessly watched his feet dangle in the air, along with his warm blood running down his body before it would hit the ground.  
  
Even today, Jake still hadn’t gotten used to the pain, and he didn't think he ever would. Every hooking felt like your first time. The pain varied depending on where the hook pierced you, but it was always agonizing, and the feeling of cold iron tearing its way through your warm guts was absolutely traumatizing. Jake was always good at keeping his screams of anguish from leaving his throat, but being thrown on a meat hook was without a doubt the worst thing he had ever experienced in his life. To make things worse, The Entity would always heal any injury after a trial, no matter how big they were- but left the scars of the meat hooks as a constant reminder that the Survivors were doomed to be Its puppets until the end of days.  
  
Jake died that day. He couldn’t believe it when he woke up at the camp what felt like a couple minutes after. He thought he was going crazy, but so did the three others who attended the trials with him. It took a few of those trials for them to realize that this was going to be their life from now on.  
  


They were four at first: Jake, Dwight, Claudette and Meg. While Jake never liked people much - if at all - he couldn’t deny that he had grown attached to these three. Even though Dwight was nervous and suffered from a severe lack of self-confidence, he made for a fantastic leader and never failed to keep them all motivated. His anxious, nervous self made him thrive when confronted to the most dire of situations. Claudette was like a ray of sunshine in this dreadful world of endless night, and her talents were much needed to ease their pain and survive. Meg was a little too extroverted to Jake’s taste but had grown attached to her positivity and drive to win. They all exchanged tricks to survive the trials, teaching one another their strengths. Jake knew his friends were grateful for his experience as a self-made survivalist, and that thought alone made him feel whole, wanted- needed. It was the four of them for a time, and then came Nea who was quickly followed by Laurie, who both had no problem fitting in with their small group.  
  
But with those new Survivors came new Killers as well- for example, Laurie and the Shape. Jake but also the others were surprised to hear that those two actually came from the late seventies. So The Entity had control over time, too? How powerful was that... _thing_ and what were Its limits?  
  
Still, it was fun to see Laurie's face twist in confusion whenever Jake would bring up his dislike for modern technology. _What the hell is a smartphone?_ She'd once asked.

But with new killers came new grounds for more trials. Haddonfield was the realm of the Shape, the Killer that came with their blonde teenage friend. The Shape and Laurie were actually still quite new and from what he’d understood, the youngest of the Survivors knew the murderous stalker from her previous life. Learning this had made the survivalist’s stomach sink, and the others had probably felt the same way. He would’ve never thought any of the Killers used to be humans with lives of their own before The Entity took them- or if they were even human at all for that matter. The Trapper had iron spikes coming out of him, his skin the color and texture of lava that was cooling down. Whatever noises that left the Wraith’s throat sounded nothing human, and his face was the texture of burnt wood. The Hillbilly was the most deformed of them all, in a way that Jake had never seen before, not in documentaries or even movies. His speed was nothing human either. He’d like to say that the Nurse was the most human-looking of the Killers, but the sack over her face didn’t allow him to take a good look at her. Her bluish skin and levitating body was not exactly in favor of that possibility, anyway.  
  
The Shape’s emotionless mask was constantly hiding his face and leaving plenty of room for imagination as a result. Jake would often wonder why he even cared about wearing that hideous thing in the first place, and Laurie would not talk. But he didn’t blame her- whatever she had gone through at the hands of the Killer was still fresh in her mind, and seeing how monstrous the Shape was, her being left so traumatized and reluctant to talk was only logical. Jake respected her boundaries and left her be, never mentioning the man of her nightmares in-between trials, something the other Survivors mirrored. All she would ever say was that the Shape was nothing but the embodiment of Evil in the shape of a man, hence his name. This led Jake to acknowledge the pale, emotionless mask as the Killer’s real face. Besides, how monstrous did he have to look like for him to never take the damn thing off?  
  
Jake had suddenly realized how long he had let his mind wander, and shook himself awake before continuing to sneak his way around the street. He eventually came across the house labelled 1520, which was sort of the main house here. The lone, lit Jack o’lantern that rested on its porch made it stand out as it was the only residence in Haddonfield that had any Halloween decoration. It was also the only house for sale and was put forward by a small realty sign standing proudly in front of it. Jake shook his head at the sight, amused in a morbid way. To think The Entity took the time to not leave out that little detail was ridiculous to him, but also rather funny.  
  
The Survivor carefully made his way inside the house. The door was already open and his head was peaking out of the threshold. Jake wasn’t all that surprised to see that the house was fully furnished, clean, with various objects that got moved around in a way that indicated that someone possibly lived here.  
  
“Uh, hello?” Jake called out, having hesitated for a moment beforehand. He knew letting his presence known was probably not the best decision, but this whole mess was unnerving enough to him that he was willing to risk a kitchen knife through his guts if it meant he would get answers. Besides, he had already made a ruckus since his arrival here and if someone were to be here as well, they were definitely already aware of his presence. But nothing answered his calls, no voice answered back to him, no sound or movement of any sort that would indicate someone’s presence.  
  
Jake sighed. He made his way deeper into the house and eventually found himself in the kitchen. It was old fashioned, the walls and floor covered in white tiles. It was furnished in a way that was similar to what you would see in movies that took place in the sixties or perhaps seventies. While not to everyone’s taste, Jake found a certain charm to it all. It made him nostalgic about an era he never knew, which was a strange yet comforting feeling. He was particularly fond of the few old porcelain plates hanging on the wall by the stove. He just loved the simplicity of it all.  
  
On the small dinner table laid half a pumpkin pie and a bowl of popcorn. Both were cold, but Jake felt his mouth water at the heavenly smell. He had not eaten anything besides edible berries that Claudette would find in the woods surrounding their camp. In fact, none of the Survivors had ever felt the need to eat anything since they had all arrived here. Nothing about their appearance was altering in any way either. It was as if the aging process of their bodies had been frozen in time. The berries acted more like comfort food than anything else.  
  
But Jake would lie to himself if he said he didn’t miss real food. Oh, that would be a terrible lie. He had a quick look behind him before helping himself to a small slice of pie. Screw the consequences that probably awaited him for that action.  
  
“Oh, fuck. This is so good.” He could not help himself from moaning out in pleasure at the explosion of flavors waking up his taste buds and at the soft dough that felt like heaven on his tongue. Even before The Entity, Jake had not eaten anything sweet in years. In fact, the only times he truly had access to any sort of unhealthy food was during his few years of College, when he’d first tasted independence. Having grown up in a rich family, so rich that the only homes he’s ever known were closer to palaces than mere houses, he was forced at a young age to follow a strict etiquette of table manners where only sophisticated dishes would fall on his plate. Proper comforting desserts were rare, and while he was always grateful to never have known hunger once in his life, he’d always craved foods that weren't fancy lobster or veal dishes. He remembered the day when he first tasted ice cream after a long day at his university, the icy treat had been so good that it had almost made him cry. He put up a few pounds during those years and didn’t regret a thing about it.  
  
He grabbed a handful of popcorn and left the kitchen, making his way up the stairs and stuffing the sweet treats in his mouth one by one. Just like in the Haddonfield he was familiar with, the stairs were loudly creaking under his feet, which made him cringe at each step he took. Still, Jake carefully made his way up to the second floor but to his disappointment, he came across nothing that would give him any clues on this predicament he'd found himself in. The doors led to empty bedrooms and a bathroom, none of them worth investigating at first glance, but he decided to have a quick look around anyway.  
  
He first walked into what looked like a child’s bedroom, probably a boy’s at first glance. There was a small bed pressed against a wall with a small, rectangular window in it. He could see a few toys laying around such as a firemen truck or a rubber ball. He also noticed a dartboard on top of a dresser resting against a wall, not actually hanging on it. What really caught his attention however was something totally out of place in a child’s bedroom- a woman’s clothes scattered all over the plywood floor which led his eyes to another door like a lure would.  
  
Jake then noticed that from this room, he could access another where a two people bed could be seen immediately on the right the moment he'd enter it. It was unmade, like someone had just been in there. There was an old fashioned vanity table on the left at the end of the room as well. He found a few more pieces of clothing thrown around carelessly everywhere. With that and the messy bed, Jake had no trouble guessing what had happened.  
  
But he didn’t notice the unmistakable smell of sex as anyone else would have most likely expected. Instead, what struck him the most when he’d crossed the door was the intense and bitter stench of iron hitting his nose. A smell that was too familiar to him ever since he’d been selected for The Entity’s deadly games. The dark blood pooling at the feet of the vanity he noticed next was enough for Jake to make him turn around and calmly walk out of the room, trying as best as he could to ignore the cold beads of sweat that threatened to run down his temple. Even though he had unfortunately grown used to the sight of blood, guts and death, Jake had no wish to investigate this floor any further. Coming here had been a mistake.  
  
  
But as he was about to rush down the stairs and leave the house, Jake realized that he was in fact, not alone.

  
  
  
______________________  
  
  
  


“Oh, hey there. Are you lost too?” The survivalist smiled at a ridiculously tall man that stood on the other side of the corridor, while making sure to keep his voice low. He had also kept the lights off, so he could only make out a pale face with a blank expression along with an exposed pair of strong arms. The stranger's clothes appeared to be dark as they blended in with the shadows. While Jake was the least likely out of the other Survivors to engage in a conversation with a stranger, he was relieved to see what seemingly looked like a friendly face in this nightmare.  
  
Jake took a step forward. “Sorry man, I didn’t see you there.” The stranger softly blinked at him in response. While his expression was completely neutral, Jake could sense the confusion on the man’s face, and so he continued. “You must be a new Survivor. I have never seen you before. Are you hurt?”  
  
The man frowned his eyebrows, but Jake could make out no anger of his expression. He sighed gently and rubbed the back of his neck, readying himself for dropping that poor bastard the terrible news that he was going to spend the rest of his so-called being nothing more but a vulgar meatbag with no other purpose than being sacrificed over and over again to some weird other-worldly divine plant. “Right, I’ll need to fill you in with the details later. But trust me, this place isn’t safe. We need to get out of here.”  
  
Jake was starting to make his way down the stairs but abruptly stopped when he did not hear the stranger follow. He walked the few stairs behind him back up and smiled at the man in an attempt to encourage him, seeing he was still standing on the other side of the hallway. “C’mon, it’s fine. Follow me.”  
  
Finally, Jake's efforts paid off as he heard the guy follow behind him as he walked down the remaining stairs. Together, they made their way out and were now standing in front of the porch. Jake felt the guy stand right behind him- maybe a little too close for comfort.  
  
“Jeez man, you’re a giant!” Jake blurted out as he awkwardly tried to lighten up the mood after he'd turned around to take a good look at him, taking a step back to do so. His new acquaintance was still yet to say a single word and he worried he was perhaps traumatized from his arrival in The Entity’s realm. This was the Shape’s realm after all, and while the masked Killer was nowhere to be seen, perhaps he had stumbled upon his new friend here?  
  
The man was staring blankly at him, and so was Jake, the only difference being the survivalist did so with a slightly uncomfortable smile on his face. He'd like to blame being awkward on his lack of social skills and general aversion towards humans, but something just... felt _off_ about this guy. Jake took a step back. He hadn't noticed before, but the stranger’s arms were covered in cuts and bruises of all sizes and shapes, and wore a black t-shirt along with what he at first thought were dark jeans. But up close, he realized that those were, in fact, coveralls as he noticed the top half tied around his waist using the loose sleeves of the garment.  
  
Jake took another step back, and felt his stomach drop when the taller man actually took a step forward. His cold gaze would not leave him and it felt almost as if his empty, lifeless eyes were devouring him alive. Before he could say anything else or run for his life, the survivalist found himself tripping on a trash bag behind him and falling back.  
  
But his back never collided with the pile of trash. When he finally came to, Jake noticed a strong bruising grip on his left forearm. Who he'd just realized was actually the Shape without his trademark mask had grabbed him when he lost his balance, right in time before Jake would have found himself laying down on a pile of dirty trash bags.  
  
Jake furiously blinked as he was trying to process it all. The Shape was staring right back at him with his dead eyes before he eventually pulled him back up on his feet in a swift but powerful motion. Jake winced a little at the pain it caused in his shoulder, having not anticipated it. He thought about how he could have possibly easily dislocated it with just a little more force. That idea forced his mouth shut as he didn't dare say another word, and followed the Killer like a helpless puppy as he was being dragged back inside the house. The man was so much taller than him that it was hard for the Survivor to keep up with his steps.  
  
Still silent as a grave, the taller man threw Jake on the living room couch. Well, at least that's how it felt to him. the Killer had not been brutal, nor did he feel any malice in his action, but he was probably not aware of his own strength. He bounced on the cushions at the impact and felt the wooden structure of the old-fashioned couch hurt his sides. But Jake kept his cool and sat there, alone with his thoughts again as he watched the Shape make his way out of the room and go God-knows where, now having a turned off vintage television for sole company

  
Jake was lost in his thoughts. He had come to the conclusion that this was the Shape's realm in-between trials, the Killer's equivalent of the campfire where the Survivors would rest when they were not running for their lives. But what was he doing here? Was he thrown there on purpose by The Entity or had he somehow gotten lost in the Fog when he escaped his last trial?  
  
  
But most importantly, why had the Shape not killed him yet?  
  
  
He was forcefully brought back from his thoughts when the familiar smell of pumpkin and cinnamon suddenly hit his nose. It took him a second to notice, but the Shape was holding the plate of pumpkin pie right under his face.  
  
"Huh?" Jake felt his face burn at his dumb reaction. The Killer's gaze was locked onto him and the Survivor understood he would most definitely not move an inch until he picked up another slice. "T-thank you," he stuttered pathetically, grabbing the food that was being offered to him with trembling hands. While this slice of pie looked just as appetizing as the first one he had, eating was the last thing on his mind right now.  
  
  
"You… like."  
  
  
Jake felt his body jump lightly by itself as the foreign voice reached his ears. It didn't immediately occur to him where it first came from.  
  
  
"You… like that." The Shape continued. His voice was a little hoarse from what Jake supposed was the lack of use, but he could make out the youth from it as well. Jake immediately snapped his eyes back to the Killer's face, studying it a little more than last time when they stood outside the house. He was surprised to notice how young he was. While the Survivor was well into his mid-twenties when he was stolen from his life by The Entity, the Killer actually looked a few years younger. His straits still had a certain softness to them, a softness commonly found in teenagers and young adults. The rich brown curls that gracefully framed his face and his innocent eyes with a color to match didn't help in that regard either. That, or he was just a ridiculously pretty boy.  
  
Jake heard himself snort at his last thoughts. The Shape was a pretty boy. Now that was weird. The said pretty boy was standing in front of him and did not seem to mind the throaty noise that came out of the Survivor either. Instead, he sat by his side in what looked like an almost robotic movement. The way this guy moved around had always felt… unnatural, like an alien that tried to blend in among humans. 

"So uh, you made this, then?" Jake brought the slice of pie up to his face, the tip of it wiggling around a little. The Killer did not move an inch, but moved his gaze to the Survivor's hand for a brief moment before he decided that he’d prefer to emotionlessly stare at the turned off television instead. "No, " He answered after a long pause, as if he had hesitated beforehand. He finally continued, "It provides me."  
  
The Shape’s was seemingly struggling to talk, even the simplest of words felt like a chore. His voice was quiet, almost shy, and Jake had to actually pay attention to what the Killer would say so that he didn’t miss anything. And finally, the Survivor ended up raising an eyebrow at the answer. He wanted to know more, but he didn't know how long he would be there. Whatever time he had left in this realm, he did not want to waste it asking questions about some fake pie.  
  
Fake or not, Jake still bit into the slice of pie, enjoying once again the sweetness of it all. He thought of the different realms he'd woken up in for the trials. While always the same at first glance, Jake would notice little differences everytime. Where the generators and pallets would spawn, for example. They were never at the same place which forced the Survivors to take a different approach to each trial everytime.  
  
Jake supposed it was the same for this realm. Everytime the Shape came back here, he imagined the kitchen would be filled with new and fresh food. That, or it was the same food every time. The pie sitting in Jake's mouth suddenly tasted a lot more bland as the thought crossed his mind.  
  
"I get it, " Jake finally said. "So… you're the Shape. Right? I didn't recognize you without the mask. Or without that boiler suit of yours all the way on."  
  
If Jake was being completely honest with himself, he would have never expected the Killer to… look like a normal guy. While it was true that the Shape was, again, the most human-looking Killer of them all, Jake had always assumed that if he were to rip off that dumb mask of his, he would be met with either a monstrous creature you would only see in your nightmares… or just pure void. After all, he had grown used to the mask and his brain had started interpreting it as his real face.  
  
So when it struck him that the Shape would blend right in a crowd of people, Jake felt uneasy. When every other Killer looked like literal beasts, the most beast-like of them all in their actions happened to look like a human being. In a way, it made him even scarier, as stupid and cliché as it sounded. But then, why did Jake not feel more afraid in his presence? He supposed the reason behind this was probably because he hadn't really been violent with him yet. But here again, why hadn't he killed him? There was no sacrificial hook out there and he couldn't see his trademark kitchen knife anywhere, but surely a man like him could easily kill him with his bare hands. Jake immediately shuddered at the thought, becoming even more aware of the man’s hands resting on his bigger lap.  
  
"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Jake judged it better to be straightforward with him. He couldn't stand being left in the dark any longer, and the Killer clearly wasn't a man of many words.  
  
The Shape remained silent for a moment, before his raspy voice could be heard again in the room. It was hesitant and his words were being dragged out, as if the man feared Jake wouldn’t understand him. "I don't want to."  
  
"Well fuck, that's new.” Jake scoffed, barely trying to hide how ridiculous he thought the Killer’s answer was. “You kill us without a second thought during trials, but then you suddenly don't care?" Jake sat back more comfortably on the sofa to keep listening, and observed the Shape drag his pale fingers on the rough fabric covering his lap, moving them around like spider legs.  
  
"It keeps us in check," the Shape almost whispered. "It keeps the Evil within me in check."  
  
"You mean The Entity?" Jake questioned, confounded. He wasn't even sure if he referred to the ‘it’ or the ’evil within’ which the Killer mentioned.  
  
"It wants us… to starve," the Killer continued as his gaze remained fixed on the television, and the tone in his voice was monotonous. "It keeps us weak."  
  
"Weak?" Jake blinked slowly at the Killer's answer, puzzled and slightly disoriented. "I'm… not sure I get it." He thought necessary to add. Jake concluded the ‘it’ the Killer had been referring to was indeed The Entity. He felt a little queasy all of a sudden, although he could not exactly pinpoint why. "It sounds bad, though. Are you alright?"  
  
The Shape flinched and turned his head to face the Survivor right after that. Jake noticed something in his expression… it was subtle, but he couldn't tell whether he was puzzled or startled by his question.  
  
Finally, the Killer’s head faced the television again as if to avoid the shorter one's gaze. "When not asked to hunt, I am by myself.”  
  
While his voice was a little louder this time, it remained hesitant and sounded as if it required a huge effort on the Killer’s part to come out of his mouth. Jake felt a little bad for the guy, as it sounded almost painful for him to speak. Like a speech impediment that had grown better over the years but was still plaguing him. His thoughts were brought to Dwight next, as this was exactly the slightly older man's case.  
  
"But you were already a Killer before The Entity took you in, right? Lau-" Jake immediately paused and reconsidered his choice of words, realizing it might be wiser. "I mean... I was told that you had a life before all this and you had always been this way."  
  
"No. Not always. Not always-" The Shape kept repeating those words over and over like a mantra. His voice was still monotonous, but it was starting to get a little freaky. Jake tried to pay it no mind, unsure as to what to do, and instead waited for a change in his behavior- which eventually happened after a few minutes. He saw the Killer’s body relax at last and take a deep breath before speaking again.  
  
"I was once alone," The Shape finally said, "I didn't always hunt."  
  
Jake sighed in frustration, not even trying to hide it. It almost felt as if the guy was trying to speak in riddles but did a piss poor job at it. Either that or he was slower than he thought. He had no clue where the Killer was getting at. "Hell, I didn't know you could even talk." Jake decided to change the whole topic entirely, hoping to maybe make things easier for both parties. He didn't look at the Killer this time, like it was his turn to stare blankly at the television's black screen but saw the Shape move his head towards him in his peripherals.  
  
"I can. But there is no point to it."  
  
"Right. What's the point in talking to people if you're just gonna murder them a second later, huh?" Jake sighed again although not as loudly as before. "So if you're talking to me right now, can I take it as confirmation that you really are not going to kill me?"  
  
"I won't kill you." The Shape was now oddly formal in his tone, which was actually slightly off-putting. "When the Evil within me is awake, I hunt. I do not talk." He paused again before continuing, visibly both catching up with his breath and pondering on his next words. "But when I am not asked to hunt, It puts it to sleep."  
  
It took a few more seconds but it finally clicked. Jake was staring into the Killer's eyes again, as if looking for the answers in them, when in truth, he had already obtained what he wanted. He was only still processing them was all. "So The Entity keeps you in check when you are not in a trial. Why? So you can keep your strength?"  
  
"Not me ," the Shape corrected. "Us. It wants us to starve. So that when we hunt, we feast."  
  
  
It finally hit him for good.  
  
  
"Oh, fuck. " Was all Jake could say after a long pause. Or mutter. It was like his life was being sucked away- like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. The realization of it all made him feel… tense. Weak... vulnerable.  
  
  
Most horrifyingly, it made him feel sorry for him.  
  
  
"That's, uh… rough, buddy." Jake could finally speak again, but he wanted to punch himself for it. Everything he had been saying had sounded so… stupid, but that was the cherry on top. Still, he carried on and pretended as best as he could that he was not actually extremely awkward right now. "So... The Entity basically weakens the evil thing within you when you're not out to throw us on rusty meat hooks. Is that correct? Which means that right now, you're like… the real you? Before the evil inside you took over you?"  
  
The Shape was silent again and this time, there was a severe expression on his face, which struck the Survivor as either guilt or anguish. Jake could sense that he was looking for words, but hesitated. "I do not remember who I used to be." He finally answered. His voice was somehow even softer, quieter, but was filled with grief and maybe even anger. Jake listened to him speak with a tinge of sympathy in his eyes. "It has not left me since I was a child." He paused again, longer than all the previous breaks he’d taken. "I don't know who I am."  
  
Jake just stared at him for a moment, lost in a deep train of thoughts. "That makes sense. This whole evil bullshit has robbed you of your childhood… of your life." Jake felt himself pitying the Killer again, and he hated that. "What is that ‘Evil’ thing within you that you keep talking about anyway? Some sort of demon?"  
  
"Evil." The Shape answered absent-mindedly after yet another one of those frustrating pauses. "Evil in its purest form."  
  
Jake was staring at him. The taller man's gaze had not left the television, but at this point the Survivor guessed he simply wanted to have somewhere to look that wasn't his face. Why, he didn't know. His body was tense, his back unnaturally straight and his hands locked in tight fists resting were resting on his knees. Jake could not make anything out of the man's expression, forever plastered with an emotionless metaphorical mask- even when he did not wear his literal mask.  
  
"Well, that Evil, whatever it is, can go fuck itself. It really messed you up, bud." Jake felt himself suddenly wanting to do something bold and gently patted his shoulder. "But hey, if that can make you feel any better, I think the real you is pretty neat."  
  
Jake was surprised to see the man's shoulder twitch at his touch and actually scoot away from him a little. The survivalist supposed he was simply not a fan of physical touches and respected his boundaries by putting his hand back on his lap.  
  
"You are not scared." the Killer eventually pointed out. It didn't really sound like a question.  
  
"Why would I be? The you I see in trials is radically different compared to the you I'm seeing here." Jake grabbed the plate of pumpkin pie to gently wiggle it next to his face. "I doubt the big scary Boogeyman that chases me around with a large kitchen knife would feed me pie like a sweet grandma would with her grandson."  
  
The Killer lowered his eyes at the remark, like a child would look down in shame as he would get scolded. Really, it was as if he... had become shy all of a sudden? Jake could not really tell. The room was still dark, despite the lamp above their heads weakly spreading its light to the four walls. Because of it, he couldn't tell if the redness that had suddenly appeared on the taller man's cheeks was real or just Jake's eyes playing tricks on him.  
  
"You're just a guy right now." Jake tried something else and scooted closer to him, closer than they were before, which the Killer actually let him do despite his original wish to stay away. The Survivor then turned his body in a way that he would completely face him, seeking to feel closer to him without actually touching him. "Trust me when I say that the man I see here has nothing to do with the beast that hunts me and my friends down like a cat would with mice." His voice was soft and reassuring, as were his intentions.  
  
The Shape stared at him for a moment, his eyes looking right into his. He hadn't really noticed before, but Jake realized that his right eye was actually a lot more pale in color compared to the other, probably blind if he had to guess. He supposed he hadn't noticed earlier because his hair fell in front of his face and his eyes a little, sort of acting like curtains. He also took the time to study his face more in detail. His earlier thoughts on his appearance had not changed. In fact, the man was actually not unpleasant to look at, and it took Jake a great amount of efforts to not reach out for those adorable cheeks of his and pinch them. He didn't know why the Killer had decided to hide his identity under a mask, but a part of him wanted to believe that it was because he didn't want his victims to see that he almost looked like a cute porcelain doll up-close. After all, an emotionless rubber mask was certainly a much creepier last thing to see before you'd die.  
  
The taller man finally sighed, surprisingly heavily at that. "Laurie would not agree." Jake perked up at the mention of his fellow Survivor’s name. While he was not scared of him right now, he felt uneasy at the mention of the young woman whom he recently learned was actually the Killer’s younger sister. He continued, his voice shakier than ever. “All this time, I have been trying to reconnect with her. But murder is all I know,” he lowered his face even more, his chin now touching the soft spot between his clavicles. “How do I connect with someone after what I have done to them?”  
  
Jake thought he’d heard the man’s voice break at some point, although it might have been his brain misinterpreting his words. But despite all that, the Killer still managed to hide his true state of mind, which rendered him completely unreadable. Jake had only heard a little bit from Laurie’s side, about what the Shape had done to her friends... how he butchered them and toyed with their bodies like they were nothing but cheap Halloween props. He almost felt his heart stop when he first heard the story, having just obtained a glimpse of what sort of monster the new Killer really was. But now that he met the human behind the mask, temporarily free from his curse, it really gave the Survivor a new perspective.  
  
He hesitated before speaking out again, deciding to be bold. "Maybe if Laurie came here one day to meet the real you, it could happen."  
  
The Shape's face had gone white - somehow even more so than his already pale skin - and this time, Jake was certain of it despite the poor lighting. His eyes rounded ever so lightly, and he looked as if he was in a deep train of thought. "I do not know how to bring her to this realm."  
  
"So I guess you aren't responsible for my presence here either, then." Jake sighed, slightly defeated. The Survivor was trying his best to sound reassuring, but the other man looked more anxious than never. "But look, if The Entity brought one of the Survivors here, it might happen again with somebody else. And that somebody could be Laurie-"  
  
"You think I am a good person," The Shape basically cut him off and stood up from the couch, his broad back facing the Survivor. "But you are wrong. Murder is all I know, even in this state." He paused, seemingly out of breath and remaining still like a statue. "And I do not care about being a good person. I have no reason to kill at the time being, but if given one, I would not hesitate."  
  
He finally turned around to face the Survivor who had frozen in place with one hand grasping at the armrest for support. "Laurie would be right to not forgive me. I do not deserve it," he had bent over the couch and was keeping his balance using one of his hands pressed against the soft cushions right next to Jake’s neck. His gaze felt like it was burning its way into Jake's soul, and the survivalist just knew he was trying to make a point. He finally breathed out, exhausted from having talked so much in such a short time, "Not even the real me."  
  
"I- Fine." Jake stuttered, at loss for words and uncertain of what to say. The Survivor hated the fact that his face had suddenly grown uncomfortably warm, but the Killer's face being only a few inches away from his didn't make things any easier for him. He could only give in to the man’s words. But to his surprise, the Shape ironically spoke for him instead. "Do not pity me, Jake, for I do not pity myself. It is the way it is."  
  
Jake felt his stomach drop at the mention of his name. Before he could say anything about it, he was snatched away from the couch and found himself on the Killer's shoulder.  
  
Instinctively, and in a panic, he tried to wiggle out of the Killer's iron grasp- which was surprising, considering he was currently weakened by The Entity. But to the Survivor's frustration, the Killer was visibly not planning on letting him go. "Where are you taking me?!" Jake blurted out, slamming his fists against his back in a desperate attempt to stun the man.  
  
The Shape had finally gone silent again, and Jake was growing genuinely scared. The grip around his waist was strong, the man's trademark heavy breathing was back and only louder due to the lack of mask covering his mouth. But the Survivor remained confused as to what he had planned to do with him as there was not a single sacrificial hook in sight. He could feel his body bounce at each step the Killer would take, and it was painful against his ribs. But when he walked outside the house and made his way up to the dark mist surrounding the street, the cogs in Jake's brain began to fit into one another, one by one, almost hearing the soft clicks resonate in his head.  
  
His struggle weakened, and finally, his body relaxed as a wave of relief spread through his entire being. And in the next second, he felt his feet touch the asphalt again. He looked up at the Shape with a smirk. "I could have walked just fine, you know."  
  
The Shape did not answer. Instead, he stared down at him, oddly close to his smaller body. His sole working eye had grown even darker, and while he was certainly staring at him right now, his gaze also looked oddly absent. His body was trembling a little, as if fighting against something inside of him. Jake had his idea of what was happening to the man and yet, the much shorter man felt ironically safe in such close proximity of the Killer as he enjoyed the reassuring heat that radiated off of him. And boy, for a man with such a cold exterior, he was actually a walking heater.  
  
"Okay, I’ll leave you alone for now, before that fucking asshole spider drags you into the trial.” He decided not to let the man suffer any longer and turned around to face the black mist behind him, so black and dense that no light could make its way through it. “Because I'm guessing this is the way out."  
  
"Walk through it with the wish of returning to your people in mind, and you will get there." The Killer finally spoke again after what felt like an eternity, struggling more than ever to let the words out. Although mumbling was maybe more accurate.   
  
"Alright, thank you, big guy." Jake smiled and took his first step into the fog. He didn't dare question the Killer how he knew about this, or if he even used this knowledge to sneak nearby their camp- after all, the Survivors did often feel like they were being watched quite often. But they brushed it off as their minds playing tricks on them. After all, who wouldn’t grow paranoid with a life like the one they all led?  
  
He surprised the Killer by stepping back outside, which he noticed as he saw the slightly rounded eyes on his face. He had also untied the sleeves around his waist and was cut off from sliding his arms back inside them when he saw the Survivor emerge back from the black mist. "I almost forgot…" Jake looked down for a moment before looking up at him again. "I have no idea how you know my name, and I don't want to know." He gave him a smile, about to speak again. "It's only fair you tell me yours. Please don't make me ask Laurie for it."  
  
The Shape's eyebrows rose even higher, before his expression finally softened back into his trademark emotionless state. His body seemed to have relaxed a little as well. "Michael… is my name," It was his turn to look down momentarily and up at the other man again as he adjusted the collar of his boiler suit. It was clear he was putting great care into his syllables, making them sound as clear as he possibly could. "Michael Audrey Myers."  
  
  
Jake smiled even wilder at his answer.  
  
  
"Thank you, Michael." The Survivor reached for the Killer's significantly larger hands and squeezed them gently, his smile turning into a sweet, gentle laugh as he noticed him suddenly having to shift his weight. "I hope to see the real you again one day."  
  
And so he disappeared, feeling the Fog swallow him whole as his thoughts focused on the safety of the campfire and the proximity of his friends. He could almost hear their voices and their laughter, only for the warmth of their presences to no be longer a mere illusion. Still, as the familiar and comforting campfire's light appeared in the distance, he could feel a pair of eyes burning into his back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! I wasn't sure about making Michael talk, especially this much, but I think this was the best option I had to make things work. Having grown up with a speech impediment myself, I still struggle a lot when trying to have a simple conversation, so I sort of based the way he talks on my own experience in an attempt to make it more believable. 
> 
> also fun fact the original file is called "what are you doing in my swamp" which is probably better than the weird final title i ended up coming up with dhsndgshgds
> 
>   
> Find me on Twitter and Tumblr @itscaloppe !!!


End file.
